An Alternate Ending
by DanikaL
Summary: A different end to the war with the Capitol
1. Part 1

I originally wrote this on December 25, 2010 for my dear friend Jia's Christmas present. Ultimately, however, I wrote this alternate ending for Mockingjay because, I, personally, was not satisfied with the real ending. I'm hoping this adds a bit more suspense and action and ties up some loose ends for myself.

This begins just after (**spoiler alert**) Katniss and company leave Tigris's store. You will notice that Finnick never died, because he is just too awesome to die.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games.

* * *

><p>"Careful, Catnip. Now would be a <em>really<em> bad time to get hurt," Gale says in an undertone. He looks pointedly at the growing crevices in the street that were created by falling bombs. One wrong footfall could send me cascading into the earth. I pick my way gingerly through the city, searching, hunting for my prey. _Snow_.

I bet he's in his mansion right now. He's probably lounging around in his office chair with his legs kicked up on his desk. This is the Capitol, his playground. He has nothing to fear. I decide this actually might be an advantage. He's off his guard. There's no way he'll be ready for us.

I breathe in and out slowly, rhythmically. I desperately need to keep my head. At this point, I can't afford to panic. The fate of the mission depends on our ability to get in and out stealthily. I continue to inhale slowly as we make our way through the Capitol. Only Gale, Peeta, and Finnick are with me now. We left the others behind in Tigris's secret annex. It took a while to persuade them to stay, but reason won over eventually. We can't have too many extra people. How would we look walking down the road in such an organized fashion when everyone else is screaming and frenzied? We even considered leaving Peeta behind. He would not go quietly.

"I hope you know where you're going, Odair," I mutter to Finnick, "If we don't get there soon, we're likely to get bombed by our own people."

"What a headline that would be back in District 13. 'Coin's bombers murder the mockingjay' the papers would say," Finnick muses, smirking all the while.

"A great loss that would be for the rebellion," I respond sardonically. "Just get us to the mansion, Finnick."

"Yes, ma'am," he says, grinning. His enjoyment in all this is beyond my comprehension. I just cock an eyebrow at him and resume my silence.

Beneath my feet, the ground shudders and announces the arrival of each of Coin's bombs. _Boom_, _boom_, _boom_. I block out the idea of all the people who might be dying at this very moment. With every earth-shattering explosion, terrible screams rip through the air. The poor Capitol citizens, scattering like scared, little cockroaches. They're sitting ducks.

_Crack_. A thin line snakes its way up the street, splitting it in two. Already, the city is falling to pieces. Thunderous explosions, blood-curdling screams, billowing dust clouds, and frantic shouts surround me, threatening to steal my unusual calm. Suddenly, a loud whistling drowns out all other sounds. Seconds pass as the whistling grows louder. And then the world around me explodes. Bits of the shops on my right are now raining down from the heavens. What used to be a candy-colored department store is now falling from the sky. A bomb must have been dropped on the opposite side of the street. I have come so close to death this past year, I can't even feel surprised. Then, another bomb is dropped within close proximity. A crash echoes up and down the road and I am thrown off my feet. I hit the ground with a jolt and my whole body shudders on impact. Please, please, _please_ do not let any bones be broken.

Now, it's as if everything has been put on mute. A harsh ringing fills my ears and I can't comprehend anything else. This is me and the supplies at the Cornucopia all over again. Instantly, my hands fly up to my ears. Maybe this ringing is a good sign. Please let it mean that my current deafness is only temporary.

As I gaze around from my position on the ground, everything is hazy. Even my vision has become impaired. Figures, moving bodies, stagger across my field of sight and a few are converging on me. That must be Gale. Wait, is it? Man, this is awful. It's like I'm watching a movie in slow motion and its soundtrack is only comprised of one track, ringing. The figures get closer, but not clearer. Soon, one of them is kneeling in front of me. Oh, yes, that's definitely Gale. His dark hair is a dead giveaway compared to Peeta's blond mop and Finnick's voluptuous, bronze locks.

Words begin to form on my lips. Although, I'm not quite sure what they are. I must be saying something, but I can't hear the words spilling from my mouth. Can they even hear me? Then, all at once, the ringing disappears.

"Gale," I say slowly, weakly, "Where… is everybody? Are you okay? Peeta? Finnick?"

"They're fine, Catnip," he says hurriedly, "Peeta's a bit dazed, but he'll be all right in a second. Finnick… Well, he's as haughty as ever. No bomb can change that."

Under different circumstances, I probably would have laughed. Gale opens his mouth again, "We have to move, Katniss. Are you okay? You don't look too bad. Can you get up?"

I nod. My vision has returned to… Well, it's somewhat normal. Some things are a bit fuzzy. Otherwise, the horror of the war raging around me is as crystal clear as ever. I push myself up into a sitting position and take stock of my friends. Gale is crouched on the sidewalk beside me, looking a bit rugged, but mostly unscathed. Scratches on his face and arms show where he was hit by flying debris. A yard away, Finnick is leaning against a storefront with his back to the glass window. He appears to be perfectly fine. His hair is windblown, but really, that only adds to his attractive features. I shake my head and I'm not sure if it's to clear it of that last thought or to shake off the last bit of cloudiness. Peeta is sitting on the sidewalk to Finnick's right and is slightly obscured from my view. He seems to be okay, though.

I rise up from the ground until I am standing and return my gaze to Gale. "All right. Let's go."

He nods and stands up as well. Peeta follows our lead and Finnick pushes off from the window. Everyone is ready to move. As I look around me to plot out our next maneuver, however, I notice that there has been a change of scenery. The vibrantly colored shops that had lined the opposite side of the street a mere minute ago are no more. Only the foundations can be seen in their original places. Everything else-the walls, the roofs, clothing racks from within, the windows-are scattered haphazardly about the road, damaged beyond repair, or even recognition. I am hoping with the last ounce of goodness for those in this city I can feel that there was no one inside those buildings.

By now, more Capitol citizens have flooded onto this street and are making their way towards us. They are surely running from previously bombed areas and are searching, in vain, for safety. They won't even notice us. As they get closer, their panicked howling grows louder and fills my head. Pure terror is slapped across all of their faces and many of them are covered from head to toe in dust. A few of them are even wounded, badly at that. One man, with absurd pink hair, is dragging his companion by the arms. The man on the ground slides over the detritus, emitting painful grunts and groans. Both of his legs look horribly disfigured. It's as though an entire building had collapsed on top of him and crushed his bones into oblivion.

Disgusted, I avert my eyes. I beckon Finnick over and he walks gingerly to me. I address him without looking at him, "You know this city the best, so take the lead. Pick up the pace, if you don't mind. Let's get this over with as soon as possible."

He moves into my field of vision and nods, "I couldn't agree more."

Then he is running. Instinctively, I follow him. At first, Gale is right on my heels, but he decides to bring up the rear when Peeta catches up with Finnick and me. With Peeta in his _unstable_ position, I can't exactly blame Gale for it. The four of us make our way through the city, ignoring all others and minding our own business. Finnick never slows his brisk pace and appears to know exactly where he's going. I get the sense he's navigated these streets countless times. I, on the other hand, have only been as far as the Training Center in the city circle. The city circle is, actually, where Snow's mansion is located. How to get there, however, is beyond me.

Weaving through the Capitol, most of the people pay no attention to us at all. A few random citizens can afford to shoot us some glances, but those don't worry me. It's the Peacekeepers I keep seeing that are putting me on edge. What if one of them recognizes us? What if these ridiculous disguises fail to fool them? It would only take one Peacekeeper to think they see the Mockingjay to ruin everything.

* * *

><p>Thank you so much for reading. :) Please review, I suppose.<p> 


	2. Part 2

As with Part 1, this was originally posted to my Tumblr. This, however, didn't arrive until three months after the first installment.

This was my note on Tumblr:  
>After three months, a lot of encouragement from Jia, and self-loathing for not getting on with it, I have finally written the second part. I do not own The Hunger Games. However, I'm pretty damn protective over my work and y'all are lucky that I'm even posting this. What I'm trying to say here is that if you steal it, I will kill you.<p>

* * *

><p>The four of us crouch beside oddly-shaped hedges, lurking in the shadow of the president's mansion. Overhead, branches and leaves create a roof, concealing me from a frantic world that is spinning out of control. Just before diving into the cover of the fresh, green bush, I noticed its shape. Someone had trimmed it to resemble a gigantic rose. Courtesy of President Snow, no doubt. I crinkle my nose. This whole area, under this overgrown shrub, throughout the city circle... It reeks of that sterile, stinging smell. It only fuels the flames of hatred that are wreaking havoc within my mind.<p>

I sink lower onto the ground, trying to fall away into the earth altogether. Maybe it will swallow me up whole. Maybe I'll fall down into the dark depths of the world and the Mockingjay will be silenced. At least down there I wouldn't have to see countless innocent people die or watch all the people I love get hurt.

I'm stuck here, though. I am trapped in this net and I have to cut myself free. I have to end this rebellion. I have to free Panem. I have to kill Snow.

On my right, Gale is hunched over, peering up at the imposing house before us. It towers over the hedges, and I feel so utterly small. Gale is right up against the hard-packed dirt, just like me. In his eyes, the fire that I've always known to be there burns dangerously. They look so full of hatred and fury. Will I be sucked right into the flames if he glances this way?

"Gale," I mutter, and I don't pause for him to face me, "What's the plan?"

As if he can read my mind, he does not look at me. I can see his forehead crinkling with concentration, though. We're doing all the thinking now when this whole operation should have been planned out. Why are we so unprepared? Those stupid pods. Oh, how things have gone awry.

"The plan is as simple as it gets. We enter the mansion, we find Snow, we kill him, and we get out. We wipe out everything in our way."

"You think it's going to be that easy?" I ask.

"Nothing about this is easy, Katniss," he says plainly. With that, he slides out from the cover of the leaves and crouches in the shadow of the hedge. He signals to Finnick and Peeta in another hedge several feet away while I crawl out into the sunlight. Together, we stand and take off running. Finnick and Peeta are not far behind.

Our "simple" plan really is simple... in a sense. It goes without saying that the best way to approach the house is to try the front door. The city circle is teeming with unfortunate Capitol citizens in hysterics, but it's currently devoid of Peacekeepers. While this is a bit reassuring now, we have no way of knowing how many could be in the mansion. There could be one to one hundred. It's just a risk we'll have to take.

As we near the polished marble steps that lead up to the grand front doors of the mansion, I look around me, taking in the details of the place of doom that I now run towards. The towering structuring looming overhead is magnificent. You can't deny that. Ornately-carved slabs of oak hang from golden hinges in the entryway. They are doors certainly meant to impress. An equally elaborate archway frames the entrance and stands out as white as a clean sheet of paper. Excluding the doors, the whole exterior of the mansion is the same white color. On a sunny day in the middle of summer, it'd be blinding to look at.

Over everything else, I can hear the pounding of my heart and Peeta's heavy footfalls on the smooth steps. When I look around at my companions, it's almost as if time has slowed down. On each of their faces is a certain determination that I'm sure is a mirror of my own expression. This all ends here.

_Thump, thump, thump_. My heart is in my throat and it feels like someone has taken to beating a drum inside my brain. In an attempt to ignore it, to block it out, I only tell myself to run faster. Left, right, left right. Up the steps and towards the doors. I should probably wait for the others to catch up to me. Then we could enter the mansion in a more cautious manner while watching each others backs. But I'm done waiting. I practically throw myself at the doors and push through, forcing them open with a good shove from my shoulder. I won't be surprised if I have a bruise later. Of course, that's if I survive long enough for one to form.

Once I'm inside the great home of our president, I look back to see how far behind the rest of my little assassination party is. Gale catches up within seconds with Finnick right on his heels. Peeta brings up the rear. I stop in the center of a rectangular foyer, complete with bouncy, tan-almost-beige carpet. A crystalline chandelier twinkles with an ironically cheery light above our heads. Framed photographs of what I assume to be the different landscapes of the districts hang from the walls. Vases of roses stand on end tables in each corner. My face automatically scrunches up in disgust when the dry scent of the flowers hits me like a gigantic wave.

In the center of each wall, an archway interrupts the evenly-spaced pictures. The ones to my left and right probably lead off into parlors and areas in which Snow entertains his honored guests. I decide that the arch straight ahead and the hallway that lies beyond it is the best way to go. I lift my bow and remove an arrow from the quiver on my back. I have to be ready to fire at a second's notice. I scan the immediate area and nod my head towards the arch, indicating which way I want to go. Of course, that's when Finnick steps forward and takes the lead. I don't know if he's ever been granted the opportunity to speak with the president in his office, but he knows this place better than I do. He might as well lead. I nod once more and then the four of us creep slowly forward as one.

Finnick picks up the pace a little when the hallway that we walk through emerges into a much larger room. My eyes dart from side to side, seeking out any Peacekeepers. So far, I have seen nothing to suggest that we're in any danger. That only puts me more on edge. I like to know what I'm up against.

This room matches all the others with its colors and happy lighting. Here, however, the carpet has been replaced with glossy marble flooring. It looks as smooth as glass and cold as ice. What's most important, though, is the sprawling staircase that leads up to the second story. From down here, I can see another hallway that's centered at the top of the stairs. I suppose that wouldn't be such a bad place to have significant offices. Finnick seems to agree. He leads us up the stairs and I move as silently as possible.

When we reach the landing, Finnick makes eye contact with me and then stares at the first door on the right. I follow his gaze and see a shiny, gold plaque on the white door. I squint to read the engraved lettering.

PRESIDENT CORIOLANUS SNOW

I glare at the words, but don't say anything. I know he's in there. I'm sure he's watching everything in his cotton candy city unfold on a television screen. It would be just like him. He doesn't care for his people. He has no interest in trying to help them. He only wants to see them scatter like cockroaches for pure entertainment. The thought sickens me.

After taking a moment to steel myself for what is to come, I exhale and take a step forward. And then all hell breaks loose.

Suddenly, bullets are flying through the air. The sound of gunshots shatter the silence. The effect is deafening. Immediately, I drop to the floor. In an insane stroke of luck, I manage to avoid getting hit by any of the bullets. I stay low and look around for the attackers. My heart is racing faster than a canary's in a coal mine. My breathing quickens and I take another sweeping look around the mansion. Where are they?

As more bullets rain down upon us, I spot dozens of Peacekeepers coming from all directions. They're everywhere. They're pouring down the hall, flooding out from the other closed doors, sprinting up the staircase.

I quickly nock an arrow and let it fly. There's a soft thud when it lodges itself into the chest of an oncoming Peacekeeper. From it, a red stain spreads outward, quickly drenching his prim, white uniform. He falls to the floor with a thunk. One down... many to go. Next to me, Finnick is twirling about, swinging and jabbing with his glorious trident. He spins in and out of the fray like a dancer. It almost looks like he's having fun. I can't see how that's possible, though. We're so greatly outnumbered... How will we get out of this? We were so stupid in thinking we could come here and take on Snow's hoard of soldiers. In fact, we weren't thinking at all. If we die here... It will be my fault, and we all know it.

As the Peacekeepers press in on us from all sides, getting every closer, I find myself backing into Gale. We lock eyes for a moment and I try to pour everything I could ever say in an apology into that one short second. For some reason, though, he doesn't look nearly afraid as I feel. Why not? Does he not see the hopelessness of our situation. I don't have another moment to ponder that, however. One of the closest Peacekeepers whips out a gleaming, silver knife from his belt and flings it in my direction. It flies straight and true. I barely manage to tuck and roll out of its path. _Thud_. It embeds itself into the carpet only two feet from me, exactly where I'd been crouched not five seconds ago.

I grimace and pull out my own knife. I launch myself at the Peacekeeper. He doesn't flinch and prepares himself for the attack, but I am too fast for him to react. Just before he can raise his gun to shoot, I plunge my blade into his heart. His mouth falls open into a surprised circle and then his body hits the floor when I jerk my knife back out of his chest. I lean down over the body and rip the gun out of the lifeless hands.

"I don't suppose you'll be needing this anymore," I mutter, half to myself and half to the man I just killed. I step back towards Gale and Peeta again and take aim with my newly acquired weapon. I point it into the mass of Peacekeepers rushing toward me and, thinking only of the survival of myself and my companions, I let it rain.

Countless men fall at the impact of the bullets _I_ shoot at them. This killing... It almost seems mindless. But if I don't kill them, they'll kill me. And isn't that all I, Katniss Everdeen, want? To survive?

Then, from behind, someone is calling my name. It's Gale, "Katniss! Katniss, get back! Get over here! Hurry!"

I look over my shoulder, with my index finger still squeezing the trigger, to see what he's talking about. He, Peeta, and Finnick are clustered together, back to back, in a little triangle at the top of the stairs. The three of them had managed to take out all of the Peacekeepers that had been heading up the stairs. Gale and Peeta are urgently beckoning to me while Finnick continues to shoot our attackers with another one of their guns. I don't know what this is all about, but I draw nearer to them, stepping carefully over dead bodies.

"What," I hiss when I reach them, "is your plan, _now_?"

At this, Gale actually _grins_, "Let's just say that while you've been working on propos and inspiring the nation, I've been rather busy myself."

I stay silent while he pulls something from his pocket. I stare curiously while the four of us slowly move down the staircase, trying to get out of the line of fire. We squat down, using the steps for what little cover they provide. In my ear, Gale murmurs, "Whatever you do, keep your head down. Duck and cover and do _not_ look up until I tell you to."

I nod slightly and he decides that little sign of agreement will have to be good enough. He draws his right arm back like he's about to throw a ball and I catch a quick glance at what he's holding. It's a perfect, black sphere. It's smooth and polished like the marble floor below us. I see his fist tighten around it and an infernal beeping begins. It's insistent and high pitched, screaming its annoyance to the world. Immediately, Gale flings his arm forward in a quick, graceful arc. When his fist just passes his head, he releases his hold on the little, black ball.

I try to follow it with my gaze, watch it soar through the air, but a hand suddenly forces my head down and I remember Gale's command. I keep my face buried in the steps and use my arms to protect my head and neck. All the while, our small group continues to slither down the stairs. From the top of the steps and the hallways beyond, the beeping continues until. Finally, after what seems like a million years, the beeping stops and is replaced by an ear-splitting boom. The explosion creates a thunderous boom and it's all I can do to keep my eyes locked on the wood of the staircase. Out of nowhere, rain begins to fall. Little droplets splatter on the back of my neck and the air smells like coppery metal.

"Katniss," Gale says softly in my ear, "You can look now. It's okay."

I slowly raise my head and take in the chaos around me. It's not raining. It couldn't possibly be raining _inside_ anyway. The liquid drops I felt landing on me from above was really wet, sticky blood falling back to earth. What goes up must come down. Up on the landing and in the hallways, dozens of Peacekeepers are strewn across the floor, soaked in their own blood. The once-perfect white walls are now charred and gory. At the sight, I feel my stomach lurch.

"What," I gasp, "What was that? What did you just do?"

"It was a grenade," Gale replies quietly, "I specifically designed it to create a blast in every direction except for the one from which it came. That way, it would destroy everything except for the person who threw it. That was a prototype, the first of its kind. I didn't think it was ready. ...I wasn't even sure that it would work."

Finnick snorts, "Well, if that isn't 'working' for you, I don't know what is."

I nod. It was definitely effective. I don't think Snow was expecting us to have anything like _that_. This is our chance to get into his office, though. I can already hear reinforcements, who knows how many more Peacekeepers, racing through the mansion, looking for the site of destruction.

"Have you got any more of those?" I ask, "If you're planning on getting out of here alive, you'll need to do some serious re-thinking. It's time to go to Plan B."

"Well, er, no. That was the only grenade I made," Gale grumbles.

Peeta pipes up, "Plan B? I don't suppose you've already thought it up, have you?"

I look at him warily and shrug, "Just grab a gun. Let's go."

I use my hands to help push myself up from the stairs into a standing position and start picking my way through the mass of bodies. I throw the gun in my hands to my right and it clatters across the floor, devoid of ammunition. Finnick, Peeta, and Gale follow suit and prepare themselves for another onslaught.

As I slowly approach the engraved door, images of all the deaths I have seen flash before my eyes. Those other poor tributes that were thrown into the arena with me. Rue, the life draining from her sun-tanned features, her head cradled in my lap. District 12, covered in ash and burned to the ground, a dead city. The face of the man I'd stabbed to death not five minutes ago. All of it, every last thing was _his_ fault. I wouldn't be surprised if he could feel my hatred pouring from me, surging straight through the door. He knows we're here. I'm almost shocked that he hasn't tried to escape through the entryway I'm feet from... almost. I think he's past caring now, even for his own life. He never cared about others, only power, and at this moment, that power is crumbling out from beneath him. His empire is collapsing at his feet.

I reach the door and stretch out my arm. My fingers close around the cold, golden handle and I slowly turn it to the side. There is a small _click_ and then I fling the door open.

* * *

><p>Again, thank you so much for reading and please review! :)<p> 


	3. Part 3

The note I wrote when I posted this on Tumblr:  
>It's been three and a half months since I posted the second installment of this fanfic. Three months seems to be about how long it takes me to adding more to this damn story. This part has actually been mostly done for the past month, but I haven't gotten a chance to finish it up and add the last bit due to recent events.<p>

However, it's finally here and I'm not very confident in how good it is. I'm really not sure it's any good at all. It's probably a disappointment; anticlimactic like the real ending. :| But here it is… the next 2,067 words (I know it isn't long).

Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games, but if you steal my work, I will murder you in your sleep.

* * *

><p>"Hello, Katniss. What a pleasant surprise this is."<p>

Coriolanus Snow is perched on the chair behind his desk like a bird watching its prey. His whole body is perfectly rigid and he sits with a disgusting air of superiority. Immediately, I can smell his unmistakable scent of blood and flowers. It fills the room and makes everything feel sterile, like a hospital. There is a slight grin on his face and the words roll off his tongue easily. Quite the character our dear president is.

I automatically raise my head and set my expression to look him straight in the eye. Waves of fury seem to flow through me, right through my veins. I didn't know it was possible to hate someone this much. I involuntarily begin to grind my teeth together, holding my tongue for the time being.

"Honestly, Kat," he says, "There's no reason to look so angry. This is all your fault, you know. You started all of this. Isn't this what you wanted?"

I watch him with pure hatred in my eyes and I spit at the floor in front of me.

"Stop wasting your breath, Snow. You're going to need it," I hiss.

He chuckles and waves his hand lazily, "What are you going to do, Katniss? Are you going to arrest me? Cuff my hands, take me away, lock me up for good?"

He pauses for a moment, waiting to see if I'll interrupt, but we both know he's not done.

"Or are you going to kill me? By now I think we both know your capable. I mean, look at what happened to that boy who murdered your dear little friend Rue. Stuck him with an arrow, you did. Ah, but see, the question is, do you have the right _motivation_ this time? Tell me, Kat, what is it that you're fighting for? What do you hope to accomplish by allowing all these innocent people to die for you?"

Slowly, my hands clench into fists and they begin to shake uncontrollably. I grit my teeth and set my chin. It's taking all I have to not lunge across that desk and rip his cold, black heart from his chest. I just want to hear him say it. Tell me what _he's_ getting from all of this. What drives a man to such greed and cruelty? Relentless with his words and his attempts to shake me, he continues.

"First Rue, those people from District Eleven, then all those Capitol citizens I'm sure you saw running and screaming just outside these walls... And all of the Peacekeepers you and your friends must have killed!"

At this, he finally takes his eyes off of me to look over my companions who now stand beside me. Gale is to my right with his hands balled up just like mine. Finnick is on my left and he looks as though I've never seen him before. None of his usual humor is there. It has been utterly replaced by absolute hatred. Peeta stands just behind Finnick and me, looking only slightly dazed now. He too looks angry. After all, this is the man who caused him all that pain.

"How nice it is to see you, Gale! You're such a strapping young man! I'm not surprised you were assigned to accompany your _cousin_ here. And Finnick, my dear boy! It's been too long. You look much the same, as handsome as ever... And my, my, is that Peeta I see there? Lurking in the background are you? I must say that I've missed you the most. You were so good with the Tracker Jackers..."

"Don't you dare talk to him," I snap, whipping out another knife from within my sleeve. Even I am surprised by my abrupt outburst.

Taking a step forward, I stab the blade into the desk with all the strength I can muster. It becomes nearly buried to the hilt. Even though my sudden action doesn't cause the man before me to flinch, a hint of fear flashes across his face. A true politician he is, for he instantly regains his composure.

"Who do you think you are? After what you did to him, you don't have the _right_ to address him."

Snow spreads his hands wide, "I only helped him, Katniss. I showed him who you truly are. His mind was clouded with his misguided feelings, but I've shown him the way. Can you look me in the eye right now and tell me that he still loves you?"

Instead of answering, I reach behind me to pull an arrow from the quiver on my back. The head glints in the light that floods through the windows on the opposite wall. I dramatically pass it from hand to hand.

Glancing around the room, I take in my surroundings. On the edge of the desk, centered on the wooden surface, sits a nameplate that matches the one on the door. A couple feet from it at the corner of the desk is a vase full of his infamous, genetically-enhanced roses. Behind it, mostly obscured from view is a tiny silver flask. It's appearance is nondescript, but one can only guess at its contents. Directly in front of Snow is a stack of paper. On the very top is a copy of the latest news article published here in the Capitol. Coincidentally, my face is plastered over the front page.

"I didn't think so," he says with a smirk on his face. He drops a hand from the desk nonchalantly, as if he's only going to scratch an itch that's bothering him. But I know better. Quick as lightning, I jump forward, charging straight for the president. Just as his hand reappears from beneath the desk, with something small, black, and shining grasped in his fingers, I slam my own hand down and the arrow with it.

With a tearing sound, the arrow's tip easily slices through the cloth of his jacket and continues even further down. It rips open the skin of his hand and drives straight through to the wood below. With a yelp, he releases his wimpy little pistol and his other hand flies to the arrow shaft, trying to yank it out. However, his attempt only inflicts more pain and his cool and collected mask has become a look of terror.

Drawing further away from his cowering face, I stand up. Slowly, I walk around to the other side of the desk and stand behind his chair. Placing my hands on the high back of it, I can't help but give him a little spin. At the movement, he screams in agony while the arrow only tears through more of his flesh.

Releasing the chair, I step closer to the large, mahogany desk. Turning away from the president, I reach out to the topmost drawer and yank it open. Nothing but pens and paper. Not what I'm looking for. Continuing down the column of drawers, I stop at the third from the top. Peering down into it, I reach in to pull something out. As my hand closes around a pair of scissors, I hear a loud _bang_.

When I look up, I see Snow's gun clatter off the desk and onto the floor while Snow himself has drawn his unpinned hand up to his chest. He stares at the place where it was a moment ago in shock. Across the desk from him, Gale stands with his own gun aimed right at the president.

"If you were smart, you wouldn't try anything else, _Sir_," he says angrily.

Pulling the last arrow from my quiver, I use it to pin Snow's other hand to the desk. The reaction I receive from him is music to my ears. Stepping closer to him, I grab a fistful of his hair and jerk his head back against the chair. With his eyes skyward, I spread the blades of the scissors and stab them into the chair, right over his throat. The point of each blade rests against either side of his neck while the angle where they meet cuts slightly into his skin. If he moves, he will bring about his own death, and it will not be quick.

Snatching up the silver flask from the desk, I pop the top open and lean in closer to the president's face.

"How would you like a taste of your own medicine?"

With my free hand, I take hold of his chin and pull down his jaw, opening his mouth wide. Dramatically, I raise the flask above his face, tip it forward, and let the poison within pour neatly into his mouth. Struggling in vain, Snow tries desperately not to swallow the clear liquid. However, with his mouth forced open, it trickles down his throat.

Slowly, fizz begins to form and it spills from his lips while his eyes roll backward. With a final cough that sends saliva flying across the desk, President Coriolanus Snow is dead.

Turning away from his body with a disgusted expression on my face, I tuck the flask into one of his curled hands and stalk toward the door.

"Our work here is done," I tell the trio waiting before me. Gale takes one last look at the corpse in front of him and then steps out into the hallway, followed quickly by Peeta. Finnick, however, moves closer to the desk and pulls a bright red rose from the vase. Leaning across the wooden surface, he places the flower's stem horizontally in Snow's mouth and lifts his slack jaw so that he bites down on the thorny thing.

Then, turning on his heel, Finnick follows the others out the door. I fall into step beside him and give him a curious glance.

"To hide the scent of the poison," he says simply, "President Snow continuing his act until the end and beyond."

I just shrug and look ahead to Gale where he now leads the way.

"Gale, you still got the communicuff they gave you?" I ask.

He turns to look at me, "Yeah, you want it?"

"No, just call up our good friends at Thirteen and tell them the deed is done. We need a ride."

Finnick pipes up, "You know that's not a good idea. What's the difference calling now rather than earlier? If we're going to now, we might as well have called for help. They've got a station of Peacekeepers set up somewhere to intercept any of our communications."

"The difference," I say, "is that Snow is dead."

Finnick just shrugs. Gale, meanwhile, starts fiddling with the contraption around his wrist and when he finally contacts one of our allies, he begins to relay the message.

"Well if they're going to send a hovercar," Finnick says, "let's go wait on the roof, shall we?"

At this suggestion, we head up a flight of stairs and continue on our way up. Ahead of us, however, Gale is still talking to someone and I see his whole body suddenly go rigid.

"Gale?" I ask.

Slowly, he turns around to face me again. His expression is full of worry and terror.

"Katniss... Oh no, Katniss," he stutters.

"_Spit it out_, _Gale_."

After a moment, he finally reveals the news, "Katniss, it's Prim. I don't know all the details, but I think she was in the field and... I guess she got hurt somehow, but she's being flown back to Thirteen right now. They say she's in critical condition."

At the sound of my sister's name, something inside me seems to snap. All the feeling of success I'd gotten from Snow's end has faded and is replaced by nothing at all. I don't feel anything. I just feel empty and somewhat lost. Both my mind and heart are a barren wasteland with nothing to show that there was ever any happiness there before.

This wasn't supposed to happen...

Suddenly, I break into a run. Instead of continuing upwards toward the roof, however, I race down the stairs. Flying past the scattered bodies of Peacekeepers, I sprint all the way down the grand staircase and down the hallway we came in through. Pushing through the wooden doors, I burst into the city circle, lit by explosions and flooded with screams.

Not one Peacekeeper deserves to live and after I'm through with this city, there won't be a single one left...

* * *

><p>Thank you oh so very much for reading this and liking it enough to continue on to the third part, haha. Please, please, please review! :)<p> 


End file.
